


walk walk fashion baby

by biggrstaffbunch



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel 616, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 06:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1500779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biggrstaffbunch/pseuds/biggrstaffbunch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kate and Bucky have got a bet. They both win.</p>
            </blockquote>





	walk walk fashion baby

**Author's Note:**

> The result of a tumblr meme prompt from [valeriestahl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/valeriestahl/pseuds/valeriestahl) ! Shameful lack of Bucky/Kate on Ao3, so always looking to add to its numbers :)

Bucky Barnes is a legend, sure. A legendary  _asshole_. Kate narrows her eyes over the lip of her wine glass as she stares at the tall, handsome, immaculately-clothed man across the room.

"He wore a goddamn  _suit_ ,” Kate hisses. Next to her, Clint groans. “What?” she demands, not taking her eyes off the bright smile literally beaming its way through the din of the room.  _Ass_ hole.

"Are you seriously talking about Bucky Barnes?" Clint asks, voice long-suffering. "Katie. Kate. Kate, come on. That is such a bad idea, I can’t even—that’s like a  _me-_ level bad idea. That’s a Bad Idea with capital letters, that’s the kind of bad idea that gets Captain America  _and_ Black Widow on your ass and not in a fun way—”

Kate steps on Clint’s foot with all the delicacy she can muster. So, none.

"Quiet," she commands. "I don’t say a word when  _you_ have a death wish—”

"Uh, yeah you do, you do all the time—"

"Anyway, it’s none of your business," Kate says loudly, putting her wine glass down with a grim kind of determination. "Bucky and I have a little bet going on. And I’m not about to let that jerk win. He’ll never let me hear the end of it." She slants a look at Clint. "Must be a guy thing," she sniffs.

"A bet?" Clint’s voice is wary. "What kind of bet? Kate, is Captain America going to yell at me if he finds out about this bet? Is this the kind of bet that’d fly with, you know, the shining beacon of honor and integrity?

Kate snorts. “Nope,” she throws over her shoulder, before striding through the crowd. 

She can hear Clint saying faintly behind her: “Aw,  _Kate._ ”

 

|

"A suit?" 

Kate can see Bucky’s shoulders freeze for a split second before they relax. He doesn’t turn around, and Kate takes the opportunity to stare moodily at the broad span of those shoulders in a genuine silk suit that must be priced at least two thousand dollars above a SHIELD agent’s paygrade. The soft curl of his hair at the nape of his neck makes something itch under Kate’s skin, and she tightens her hands into a fist.

She leans in closer, mouth brushing the edge of his collar, skirting over his skin. “A suit?” she asks again, pitching her voice low, dangerous.

This time, Bucky does turn around. He is devastatingly good-looking up close, with a strong jaw and wide brow and dark, dark eyes. Kate feels a little petulant, staring up at him and his dumb, predatory grin.

"Your stubble screams  _manpain_ ,” she grumbles. 

Bucky’s smile widens. “Your dress screams  _I’d rather be shooting an arrow into someone’s eye so don’t mess with me_ ,” he responds.

Kate bites back a grin. Now how is she supposed to be mad at a charmer like that? 

"You wore a suit,” she says accusatorially. “You bet me 100 bucks I would fall for anyone in a nice suit—“

"And you told me I was full of shit and that you had better taste than to be swayed by a pretty face and tailored lines—"

"—and then  _you_ wore a suit. On purpose. Just to watch me squirm.”

Bucky leans in, smelling like heated skin and expensive cologne and the sharp tang of wine.

He rakes a gaze over Kate that lingers on her mouth long enough for her to actually start to  _salivate_ , honest to God. 

She shifts, swallows.

"Did it work?" he asks, and his voice is rough, a little hoarse. He reaches out a hand, moves her hair off her shoulder, grazes the sensitive, hot surface of her nape with cool metal fingers. 

"Did—" Kate feels dazed. She blinks, her skin starting to prickle. Bucky’s eyelids go half-mast, for all the world looking like a sleepy lion. He’s still looking at her mouth.

"Are you squirming?" He’s bent close, whispering in her ear, tilting her head towards his. Her nerve endings are lit like sparklers, crackling with the energy between them. 

Kate rubs her thighs together, feels the low-down throb of pleasure, tries to fight the desperation to close the gap between them and press her lips to Bucky’s, stroke his tongue with her own. To fit him between her legs and ride his ridiculously hard, muscled, _well-dressed_ thigh right in the middle of this charity gala.

"Yeah," she breathes, mutinous and turned-on. "I’m squirming."

Bucky rewards her with a kiss, a hot cling of his lips against hers, the slightest hitch of his breathing the only indication that he’s even half as affected.

His pupils are dilated when he looks back down at her. “So am I,” he says, voice rough. “This goddamned suit is gonna end up on the floor as soon as we get back to my place.”

Kate shivers as Bucky’s hand cups the heavy weight of her breast for just a moment, nipple tightening under the satin. “Why wait?” she practically purrs, then licks her lips. “There’s a broom closet on the fourth floor. I’m gonna unzip those expensive, Italian-made trousers and suck your dick. And then you’re gonna keep the suit on and you’re gonna fuck me against the wall. Because you’re superhuman and I’m super, super horny.” She winces. “I’ve been hanging around Clint too long. My repartee is weak.”

Bucky's got a look his in eye. “I’m not complaining,” he says, and Kate can practically  _see_ him holding her against the wall in the dark, her purple dress pushed up around her waist, legs wound around his hips as they move—

She fans herself, well aware that her skin is stained pink with her blush.

"No, you wouldn’t be complaining, would you?" Kate asks dryly. She turns to go on unsteady legs, then pauses, looks over her shoulder.

"And Bucky?" she says, eyebrow arched. "You’re gonna keep that suit."

 

|

 

Clint forwards every subsequent strongly-worded letter from Cap, making sure to add little doodles of himself puking in the margins.

Kate still thinks it was worth it.


End file.
